


Sweet Deduction

by DevilsCabaret



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:31:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilsCabaret/pseuds/DevilsCabaret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would seem a normal day at 221B Baker Street... So why is Sherlock so mysterious and strange? An enjoyable one-shot on a particular day of the Consulting Detective, engaged in a frantic search that will make him face the sweet simplicity of friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Deduction

**_Sweet Deduction_ **

_A friend is like a strong light which can brighten even the darkest days - Silvery_

"Don't tell me you've been up all night!"

"Mm..."

John Watson was watching this Flat mate with a worried and inquisitive gaze. In his hand a cup of hot coffee.

"You know you should rest, at least now that no psychopathic madman wants to blow up London. You never know when you might need to stay awake for days."

Again the answer of Sherlock Holmes was not more than a grunt. He seemed absorbed in some thought, his face directed toward the screen of his laptop. Suddenly he seemed to notice the presence of his friend.

"Oh, John! You're finally awake. I've been waiting for you."

The ex-soldier wrinkled his forehead, confused.

"...Why?" He asked while on his face appeared half-a-smile.

"Hand me the phone."

John's expression changed in seconds, becoming resigned and almost disappointed.

After all, he couldn't expect that Sherlock knew.

Shaking his head he put the cup, now empty, on the kitchen table and while adjusting his tie he grabbed his coat.

"I'm going to work. I'm already late."

Sherlock finally looked up from his computer, his eyes lingering on his friend.

"What is it? Is my shirt twisted?"

"No, nothing" the Consulting Detective replied promptly "Remember that we have a meeting with Lestrade today."

"Of course. Lunch at the usual place?"

"Mm..."

Having said that he shifted his eyes on the laptop while John, the jacket worn, went down the stairs, and with a thud closed the door behind him. The room was filled with silence, interrupted only by the sound of Sherlock's fingers that were frantically pounding on the keyboard. Outside the noise of the cars was the background to his thoughts as the old pendulum clock chanted the minutes.

Beep-Beep.

Sherlock's hands froze while with a slow gesture he lifted his face, moving it on the desk where the phone was lying. After a quick glance he looked back on the PC screen, his fingers resuming their motion.

_'Conclusion: correct item for the achievement of the target not yet identified. I need more information. Further intensify the inv-'_

Beep-Beep

Once again the sound of the phone distracted the man from his thoughts. He looked evilly at his desk, closed the laptop and dragged himself up to it, grabbing the device. Seven messages. All from Mycroft. All alike.

_'Meet me. It's important.'_

Sherlock put the phone in his pocket and began staring at the wall, his gaze lost into space. Suddenly he got up, took his scarf, tied it around his neck and left the house. He was walking for a couple of minutes when a dark car stopped beside him and opened the door, inviting him to enter. Holmes kept on walking, trying to ignore the gaze that was pointed on him. He slipped in a series of narrow streets, hoping to disappear without a trace, but after a few minutes the same car pulled up next to him again. Resigned he got on the car which immediately resumed his run.

"What do you want?"

The man sitting in front of him smiled amiably.

"Always so surly, Sherlock..."

The Consulting Detective looked at him intensely before moving his gaze out the window. Mycroft smiled again.

"I bet you haven't found anything yet..."

At those words Sherlock turned to his brother, laying his gaze on him.

"I believe this is not your business..." He answered dryly, without moving his eyes. Mycroft slowly approached his brother as the car turned the corner and came to a halt in front of 221B Baker Street.

"Want some advice?" He began to whisper "The solution is in the simplest things." And having said that he opened the door and greeted his brother with a nod. Sherlock got out of the car without even looking at Mycroft and climbed the steps leading to his apartment whlile clutching between his fingers a cigarette he had found in the pockets of his pants. He stared at it for a moment before throwing it into a corner and sit on the couch. He pulled from the drawer three nicotine patches, attacked them on one arm and lost himself in thought.

* * *

John's morning had not been the best nor the worst. As usual he had visited many patients, as often happened he had been dozing in his study and as recently was habit he had been awakened by Sarah. It was now lunch time and the doctor closed his office, greeted the woman with a quick "I'll call you later" and walked to the restaurant. Arrived at the door he could see Sherlock, his gaze lost and vacant, drumming his fingers on the table. He entered the room and sat down in front of his friend.

"Sherlock .."

The man didn't answer.

"...Sherlock?"

A slight groan came from the man's lips, sign that he felt the presence of his friend but didn't want to enunciate complete sentences.

"What's wrong with you today? Not that you normally are much of a company...but today... you grunts even _less_ that usual!"

Sherlock looked at him and made a fleeting smile, just before the innkeaper approached them for the orders.

"Are you hiding something? Is there any case at stake?" John asked when the waiter walked away. Sherlock misled the subject and John didn't ask anything more. If for once he had a case that he wouldn't want to talk about he wouldn't have insisted. The two were leaving when suddenly Watson's attention was captured by a waiter carrying a tray of cocoa muffins.

"You know, Sherlock" he began without even making sure if his friend was listening to him or not "exactly ten years ago, shortly before I enlisted, my sister took me to a restaurant, it was called Chet or Cher or something like that... she told me to close my eyes and she put in my hands these nutty-cream muffins. I remember them well because they had a special ingredient that made them taste differently from other muffins. It's a shame that place has closed."

John lifted his face and began to look at his friend who, still concentrated, was looking out the window.

"Sherlock?"

"Mm?"

John shook his head briefly and smiled fleetingly.

"No, nothing... Let's go or we'll be late."

* * *

Arrived at the police station, a breathless Lestrade was waiting for them.

"I will be there in a minute. We've just received a suspicious anonymous call."

Sherlock looked at the man with absent behavior and followed him in the studio while John stayed outside, waiting.

"What a terrible day"

Agent Donovan's voice startled the doctor who turned to her, frowning. Certainly it couldn't be terrible as that same day a year earlier. It had been exactly 365 days since a deep wound in the arm forced him out of the military. It certainly had been a terrible coincidence. They were celebrating when it happened. Everyone was shouting, but he couldn't remember the words... the only thing he had in mind was the voice of his colleague who was calling him... "John..." and he seemed very concerned... "John..." now that he thought about it he had the same tone of voice of...

"John!"

The doctor looked in front of him and found himself face to face with Sherlock.

"What were you thinking about? I called you three times!"

The man looked at him, smiling.

"Nothing important. Are you done?"

"Yes, let's go..."

John and Sherlock left the police headquarters and headed home. Arrived at the corner the doctor looked at his silent friend and exhaled.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" He asked with concern, while Holmes looked at him with serious eyes and nodded firmly. John raised a hand to his forehead.

"Okay, then I'm off. Sarah is waiting for me.. If there are problems..."

"There won't be" Sherlcok interrupted him, staring.

"All right. Oh, I won't be back for dinner."

Sherlock nodded again while John called a taxi, went up and disappeared behind an alley. The Consultant began to wander through the streets of London, looking at every object that found under his eyes.

"Not suitable. Useless. Without purpose. Insignificant. Banal."

Suddenly his eyes rested on a black box about 30 cm long, on which there was a pink drawing that caught his attention. Failing to understand what it was, he approached the showcase, curious, to read the name on the box.

"V-vib-vibrat...oh..." Realizing the nature of the object, Sherlock stepped back and turned around, adjusting his scarf "... inappropriate."

The sky began to get dark when suddenly the man stopped hearing a couple of lovers mumbling on a bench next to him.

French...

Suddenly the woman called to his companion with a name that instantly lighten the the face of the consultant who turned to them and started staring. My dear... Mon...

"... Voulez-vous quelque chose?"

Sherlock widened his eyes and raised his both hands over his mouth.

"How could I have missed it!"

He grabbed the phone and began to make quick searches, standing up and walking away, leaving the young couple stunned. Oncehe got the expected result he ran into the street, hailed a taxi and gave the directives to the driver.

Finally, a satisfied smile appeared on his tired face.

* * *

"Sherlock! You home?"

John's voice sounded strongly in the empty flat. It was shortly after eleven o'clock when the man returned to Baker Street, concerned about the continuing strange behavior that his friend had shown during the day. He looked around for some sign that might indicate where he was, but found nothing except a short note saying ' _I'll be late. Don't wait for me_ '. For once, John decided to do as he was told, after all if there was something important Sherlock would have texted him as always. He took a quick shower and went to bed, tired from the day.

He was already asleep when he heard the bedroom door creak. He opened his eyes and grabbed the gun under his pillow, afraid that someone might have entered the apartment, but when he looked around the only thing he saw was a small package, resting on the nightstand next to his bed. Under the package there was a note.

_'The restaurant's name was Cherry...'_

He recognized immediately Sherlock's handwriting and, intrigued, he looked inside the bag. He found a single nutty-cream muffin.

_'...it_ _hasn't been closed, it has been transferred...'_

John looked at the sweet and couldn't suppress a grin. On it there was a small golden candle.

_'Happy Birthday...'_


End file.
